The Law of Unintended Consequences

I guess our friends over at Mythbusters had a little accident.



If the video happens to go away, here's a link to similar coverage from the San Francisco Chronicle.

FosterEema and I love the show (Danielle hates it) and we watch it whenever we can. I think the show is hilarious, and we love watching them blow up stuff in new and different ways.  My favorite detonation is probably the cement truck explosion from a few years ago.

Now I'm quite glad that nobody was hurt in this mishap.  Although I am sure the affected property owners aren't so amused, I couldn't help but laugh.  Their accident sounded almost like a cartoon, with a cannonball missing its intended target, blasting through a wall, bashing in the front door of a house, rolling up a staircase, crashing through a bedroom and out the wall, flying across a street, bouncing off a neighboring roof, and finally smashing into a minivan.

It's hilarious.

Of course it wouldn't be if someone had been hurt.

Now I've watched enough episodes of Mythbusters to get the impression that these folks are a pretty careful group.  They really try to anticipate, and safely prepare for, the consequences of their detonations.  They try to the do the right thing, and I'm sure that the people whose houses and property were damaged will be fairly compensated for their trouble.

This is sadly a case where things went terribly, horribly wrong, and it brings to mind the law of unintended consequences.  The Mythbusters staff didn't plan to damage two houses and wreck a car, but they did.

Earlier this week, Danielle exploded, though her explosion wasn't nearly as funny as the Mythbusters-gone-wrong cannonball accident.  The "high point" of her explosion occurred after she'd been asked to step outside to cool off because she was being verbally abusive.  There, she threw rocks at the house, screamed and yelled, continually slapped the doormat onto the concrete,  repeatedly kicked our glass storm door (nearly breaking it), and scrawled profanity (which she misspelled) on the driveway with a white rock.

Danielle is 16 years old.

She is way too old to behave like this.

Afterward, when things were calm, she told FosterEema that she wasn't going to obey us or follow our rules, no matter what we did.  Here is a transcript of part of that conversation.  FosterEema recorded the conversation on her cell phone, which is why we know in such detail what was said.  The conversation has been slightly edited to remove identifying information.

FosterEema: So, what I heard you say, though, was basically that you're not going to behave the way we want you to.  You're not going to conform your behavior to our expectations, and so there's no point in even trying.  Is that right?

Danielle: Yeah.

FosterEema: That's how you feel?

Danielle: (inaudible)

FosterEema: So, so am I understanding correctly how you feel?  That you're just not going to do what we want and there's no point in trying?

Danielle: Well it's not that I'm not gonna do what you want, it's just I'm not going to change when you want me to. I'll change when I feel like it.

FosterEema: Okay...but how's that working for you?

Danielle: It doesnt...really matter to me if it's working or not.  It's just...

FosterEema: So...

Danielle: ...kind of  difficult.

FosterEema: I'm confused.  'Cause you're saying you are doing things that aren't working for you.

Danielle: No.

FosterEema: You just said, "It doesn't matter to me whether it's working or not."

Danielle: It doesn't matter if it's working for me or not.

FosterEema: So then you are doing it even if it's not working.

Danielle: Right, and I'm doing it even when it is working.

FosterEema: Okay, well it is working right now?

Danielle: Geeze, does it look like [it] to you?

FosterEema: Well, I'm asking you, 'cause you're the one that's doing it.

Later, the conversation covered the subject of apologizing. Danielle insisted that I should apologize to her for giving her a consequence for  mouthing off, but that even if I apologized, I wouldn't be forgiven.

FosterEema: What do you mean you are going to forgive her?  She's supposed to forgive you.  You're the one who did the thing that was wrong.

Danielle: Still, you should still apologize to the person who you [wronged].

FosterEema: Why? You haven't apologized for any of the things you've done for three years.

Danielle: Uh...Yes I have.

FosterEema: Not and meant it.  You said so in [therapist's] office.  You said you're not going to apologize because you know you are not going to change your behavior.

Danielle: Well then don't expect me to apologize.  I mean, really.  You've seen the pattern that maybe [Danielle's] apology doesn't mean anything.  You still want an apology, even if it doesn't mean it?

FosterEema: Mmm hmm.  But you need to mean it.

Danielle: Right, and that's the part I have a hard time with.  I don't mean it.

FosterEema: Why don't you mean it?

Danielle: I say sorry to make the person feel better, but that doesn't mean I mean it.

FosterEema: But does it make them feel better if you don't mean it and you do the same thing again?

Danielle: That's what I'm saying.  That's why I don't apologize.  I mean, you've got to understand, here.  Okay.  You're dealing with a stubborn, bratty child, okay?

FosterEema: Yeah, I've noticed.

Danielle: So...I'm always going to be stubborn and bratty, so I'm going to say sorry to make her feel better.  If she doesn't like it, tough shit.  No offense, it's a whole waste of my breath.

Now I suppose in the larger scheme of things, it's probably great that Danielle was so honest in explaining that she isn't going to obey and that her apologies are meaningless.  Although it's been clear for a long time, this just gives us another data point in understanding that, not only is Danielle unwilling to obey, she has no remorse about her behavior.  In fact, the tone of her voice even seemed to convey a certain amount of pride in her actions.

This unfortunate conversation will be the catalyst that triggers a whole raft of unintended consequences for Danielle, for us, and for our family.  For starters, FosterEema and I have realized that we need a break from Danielle and her behavior, so she will likely be going to a new respite home for the majority of her winter break.  This certainly wasn't in any of our original holiday plans, but the realization that Danielle is deliberately and consciously choosing to disobey has made us both realize just how tired we are.

I am sure when the Mythbusters crew set off that cannon, they had no idea what was about to happen.  They were out there, doing their jobs, and trying to do the right thing.  I think that Danielle's adoption has been very much like this accident.  We tried (and fought) very hard to do what we thought was the right thing, but instead of finding a happy result, we've triggered emotional wreckage that wasn't supposed to happen.

I never thought, when I signed my name to Danielle's adoption paper, that it would turn out to have so many unpleasant unintended consequences for everyone.

Quiet

As I've mentioned before, Danielle is away at respite.

It is amazing how quiet the house is now.  The stress level is lower, I've slept better, and even our pets seem happier.  My wife and I have been able to get a taste of what life used to be like, before children.

Animals are affected by the emotional timbre of the home in which they live, and it's clear our avian friends are more content than usual.  There is less screaming, less feather picking, and more beak grinding.

It won't be long before Danielle comes home.

I feel anxious about it.

I feel anxious, because we have some new worries about Danielle's safety at home.

No, that's not entirely true.  We are worried about our own safety. 

We had a locksmith come and install a locking doorknob on our bedroom door.  The key matches the lock to our home office, and athough the lock isn't strong enough to keep a determined burglar out, it will be enough to slow our child down (and for us to wake up) if she decides to harm us while we are sleeping.

After the locksmith left our home, I couldn't help but think, what a terrible situation we are in.  Nobody should have to live this way.  Nobody should have to be so afraid of what their child might do that they have to install a lock on their bedroom door.

We have an appointment to meet with Danielle's new therapist.  We will meet with her alone, while Danielle is still away at respite, and then they will begin meeting after she returns.  We will, of course, share our concerns, and the disturbing things we've discovered.

Will this therapist help?

I don't know.

It's hard to hold out a lot of hope when so many others have failed.

***

When Danielle comes home from respite, I know that more than anything else, I will miss the quiet.

Missing the Person I Used to Be

Last weekend Jen, over at Couldn't Make It Up If I Tried, blogged about all the things she used to be before she became a mom to a severely traumatized kid.  She mentioned how she grieves the losses she's experienced as a result, and how she wishes she could be the person she used to be.

I think many foster and adoptive parents can relate to what she's saying.

For many of us, our children become all-consuming.  Their needs, their behaviors, and the therapeutic interventions required often take a lot of time.  For many parents, things often feel like there is nothing in life besides the basic must-dos, such a work and maintaining the house, and the ever-increasing demands from their damaged children.

It feels like a cycle that never ends.  Get up.  Make sure child is ready for school.  Get child to school.  Work.  Fetch child from school.  Manage child's behavior.  Deliver child at appointments.  Manage child's behavior.  Make dinner.  Manage child's behavior.  Go to bed, exhausted.  Do the same thing day after day, dreading weekends and holidays because it means even less of a break and more challenging behaviors.

The tougher the child, the less parents meet their own needs.  For some, it's not uncommon to go weeks or even months without seeing friends, taking time for themselves, or doing something that doesn't involve talking or thinking about their troubled child.

It often feels true here.  It seems that my wife and I spend most of our non-work time either talking about, or dealing with, our child's needs and behaviors.

So it's been a very interesting experience having her away at respite for a few weeks.  Unlike when we sent her away to boot camp last summer, we haven't had regular status updates or contact.  In many ways, this has been a more complete break than last year.

Rather than spending every minute dealing with our child, FosterEema and I have been rediscovering each other and the things we like to do.  Prior to this break, if it wasn't work or family finances, we mostly talked about Danielle.  Now that she's gone, we've had time to watch marathon sessions of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and we've enjoyed getting into some pretty deep conversations about the existential questions created by Commander Data. 

Now I'll be the first one to admit that there is no real point to having these conversations, since Commander Data doesn't exist, and the creation of a sentient artificial life form is probably decades, if not centuries, away.  Still, we are having a lot of fun.  These are the kinds of conversations that my wife and I used to have before we started doing foster care, and it has been a long, long time since we've been able to have them.

Like Jen, I miss the person I used to be and the life I used to have before we had children.  I had a lot more fun, and I didn't have to take things so darn seriously.  I didn't have to keep medications in lock boxes, or install locks on my bedroom and office doors to keep everyone safe at night.  I didn't have to worry about the answers to scary, hypothetical questions that keep me awake at night.

I miss walking around the house naked. I miss unscheduled mealtimes, and being able to eat what I want, when I want.  I miss being able to do things, without pre-planning, or worrying about how my child will react to the unexpected change.

But most of all, I miss being able to have fun, without worries, guilt, or fear of later payback.

Respite

Danielle is away at respite.

Originally, I'd planned not to write about this publicly, but when I saw how Baggage is feeling incredibly alone because her child has been placed in RTC, I figured I should say something.

Our child is away at respite, because her verbal and physical aggression has been increasing exponentially.  Since the July 4th weekend, when she made some horrifically bad choices, things have been incredibly, unbelievably difficult.

Add to that a betrayal on the part of a professional and another unfounded child abuse investigation, and we've had the perfect storm of unpleasantness.

I hate that we had to send our child away again.  We shouldn't have to put our kid in respite.  Normal families don't live with the absolute chaos, and the level of verbal and physical abuse that we  regularly experience at the hands of our child.  Although many parents might sigh with pleasure at the thought of having some time alone when their kids go away for a slumber party, I don't imagine that most parents are genuinely relieved at the thought their children will be gone for a period of time.

The truth is, I have become afraid of my child.  I am afraid of her violence, her false accusations, and her manipulations.  Even when things are going well, I feel anxious, because past experience has taught me that things can go from good to extremely bad in an instant.

When we left her with the respite provider, she barely said goodbye. Although there were hugs exchanged with everyone as we left, she declined to participate.  As we drove away, we waved.  Everyone waved back but our child.  She stood there on the porch, stony eyed and unmoving, as she watched us drive away.

As angry as she was when we left her, she had been carrying on since before school ended about how much she wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else.  When we finally selected a respite care provider, she carried on about how much she couldn't stand living here, how much she was looking forward to leaving, and how she wished she could move in with our friends forever.

It's a sad situation that the child escalated her behaviors to the point where it's best for all of us that she be somewhere else for while, but then feels angry about the outcome that she created.

At any rate, she'll probably have more fun in respite than she will here.  There, she'll have the company of a stay-at-home mom and several younger children.  Here, she has few friends, nowhere that she can go unsupervised, and two parents who have to work all day.

Although I'm breathing a definite sigh of relief at the idea of a break, I am also anxious because I worry that Danielle's destructive behaviors may arise while she is gone.  Of course she will honeymoon, at least for a while, but I still worry.

Our friends, thankfully, have seen our child in action.  They know her behaviors and think they can handle them.  Most likely, she'll keep it together for the majority of her visit, since most children tend to behave better away than they do at home.

It just saddens and frustrates me that we see this in such huge extremes.  It's a terrible thing that our child's angel times are uniquely reserved for relative strangers, while anger, tantrums and physical abuse are what we regularly experience at home.

I sometimes wonder if our child is even capable of understanding how much hurt and fear she has created in this family.  If she understood, would she care enough to stop?  If she cared, would she be able to put an end to the violence?

Summer often seems to be one of the hardest times of the year for our family.  The unstructured time, combined with a complete lack of constructive things for teens to do in our town, and the fact that FosterEema and I are occupied with work during the day, makes for a bad combination. Summer vacation is supposed to be a time when parents can fully enjoy their children, but this often seems to be our child's season of restlessness, discontent, conflict and violence. As a family, we all dread the end of the school year, and pray for the beginning of the next to come soon.

During the break, we are all thankful for whatever respite we can manage.

Like Baggage, we feel alone.

It shouldn't be this way.  We were supposed to live happily ever after.